Chapter Forty-Two

Red

God, it reeks. Not a bad reek, but a heavy one—weighing down the whole fucking den.

Normally, when one of us goes into rut, we insist on scent-proofing our bedroom door. There must be a couple old towels lying around I could use to seal in Marcus's pheromones, but I get the feeling it's too late for that.

I arrive at his door and clear my throat before knocking. "Hey, Marc? You alive in there?"

Like I even need to ask . That potent, virile rut scent doesn't lie.

There's a beat, and then Marcus's gravelly, muffled voice from the other side—" Red ?"

"In the flesh."

Another beat. " Alone ?"

I nod, huffing. "You bet."

I think he's about to say something, maybe ask about Eve, but then he goes quiet again. Frowning, I press my ear to the door. Eve and Thorn were right—he probably is in pain. If he can't get some relief, either on his own or from someone else, he's going to be in trouble.

Why'd it have to be Marcus to go into rut ? I ask myself. We could really use a clear-headed nurse right about now.

Suddenly the door flings open. Strong arms catch me, dragging me inside.

The door slams closed. My back hits the wall.

I stare at my packmate—a sweaty, half-naked mess of tussled blond hair and wild sapphire eyes, erection straining at his cum-soaked boxers—pinning me down.

"Marc—" I start.

He crashes his lips against mine, kissing me urgently.

A shocked sound escapes me. It dissolves away on his tongue.

Huh. He tastes kinda … sweet.

Deeper and harder, he kisses me, like he can't get enough. My hands go to his shoulders to stop him, but the low grunt in the back of his throat stops me. There's something so primal about it, so unlike Marcus, that makes my inner alpha want to submit.

I mean, it's not like we haven't kissed before. Four years is a long time to live in one den without an omega. We get drunk, we rut, we fool around. Normally, Marcus and Riley are the ones calming me down when I need it. I've never been asked to return the favour.

Which means I've never seen Marcus quite like this.

He grinds his hips against mine, making me aware of my own hard-on. Since when did I get this hard kissing another alpha—a dude , no less? Must be the pheromones. Or maybe it's the mutual bond we share with our omega.

But fuck, I'm down.

"This what you need, big guy?" I grin, gripping the outline of his cock through his boxers. "Something to fuck ?"

Marcus growls. He bucks into my hand.

"Don't you dare hold back," I tell him. He needs to get this wild streak out of his system—especially if there's any hope of him knotting Eve later.

He bites my bottom lip hard so hard I taste blood. I don't flinch, letting him fuck out the urge, the ache, as he thrusts into my palm.

Suddenly he readjusts, flattening his forearm across my chest. "Agh—" he hisses, hips moving relentlessly. "Fuck. Fuck ."

I grip him tighter. "Gonna come?"

For the weakest alpha in our pack, Marcus sure is full of surprises. He pins me down with even greater force, my whole body rattling against the wall.

"Fucking do it, then," I gasp out.

With a roar, he spasms frantically into my hand, bursting into the fabric of his boxers. It's got to be—what?—his fourth, maybe fifth load since his rut started, but damn if he doesn't have a lot to give.

"Oh my god," he moans, trembling. "O–oh my god !"

"There you go." I smirk into his temple. "Ride it out."

His body gives a few more jerks and twitches before he's spent. He slumps forward, slamming his hand against the wall for balance. I'm worried his damn knees are about to give out, so I wrap my arms around him, feeling his heartbeat on mine.

"Better?" I ask.

Marcus swallows, pulling back just enough to meet my look. "I …" he swallows. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I check his eyes—less crazy, more lucid. For now . "It was actually kinda hot."

He runs a hand through his hair, freeing me. "I acted like an animal," he grumbles.

"Uh, yeah. Exactly."

"Red."

If not for the break in his voice, like he's close to tears, I'd probably keep teasing. Instead, I guide him to his bed and gently try to strip his boxers. He stops me, blushing deeper.

"It's fine. You've done more than enough."

I huff. "When are you gonna quit that?"

"Quit … what?"

"Look at you, Marc." I gesture to his messed-up sheets, his gleaming, naked chest, his still-wet cock. "You're obviously touch-starved. And in rut. Not a great combo."

He raises his eyebrows. "I'm surprised you know what ‘touch-starved' means."

"I'm not an idiot."

"I know," he says quickly. "Trust me … I know." He looks up. "And thank you."

I shrug. "Don't mention it."

Finally, tentatively, he lets me help him with his boxers. His cock comes free, already half-hard again. Got to love an alpha's rut .

"Look, man," I tell him, "I'm happy to help you out again, if that's what you want, but we both know there's a quicker way to deal with this situation."

Marcus purses his lips.

"Even just one knot would really move things along. And no offence, but a knot is one thing I can't help you with."

"I–I wouldn't expect you to."

"Right. Cool." I eye him meaningfully.

He sighs. "I can't. Not with her."

"Unless you're talking about Riley, yes, you totally can. And should!"

"She's pregnant, Red," he snaps.

"Pregnant omegas love knots! Or had you forgotten again?"

He grimaces, making me feel a little bit shitty, but I don't backtrack. I'm right about this. The longer Marcus denies himself, and Eve, the worse off they'll both be.

"You saw what just happened," Marcus whispers, shame tainting his thick rut scent. "I was out of control. I can't do that to her, or the pup."

"They're more resilient than you give them credit for." Isn't that where this whole issue began? Underestimating Eve's strength, over estimating her weakness?

"That's easy for you to say," Marcus mutters, "but I haven't—" he shakes his head. "I have no right."

So Thorn was right. After all that happened, all those weeks Marcus insisted we couldn't have sex with Eve, he thinks he's unworthy.

Except that's bullshit. Marcus is worthier than any of us—caring, doting, gentle. There's not a bad bone in his goddamn body. Sure, I've been pissed at him, but I got over it, because I know his intentions were only ever to protect Eve. To protect our family.

I smile, putting my hand on his thigh. "Try telling that to our omega. I'm pretty sure she'll kick your ass."

He laughs—just once, but the sound is pure.

Feeling the mood lift, I decide to seal the deal, drifting further up his thigh until his cock is in my hand once more.

"Ah—" Marcus's breath hitches.

"Come on, big guy." I grin, stroking him up and down until he's hard as diamonds. "Let's get you a pretty, pregnant omega to knot."